The Unexpected Champion's Yule Date
by Terra King
Summary: Ever since her parents' death, Hildegarde Rosaleen Potter has been ruthlessly abused, humiliated, and exploited by all sides. But...what happens when it turns out that she does have a date to the Yule Ball? AU. Whether this evolves further will depend entirely on reviews and suggestions, so please help me make a choice. Thank you all.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own ideas. Though this is an AU fiction, I still honestly and sincerely pray that you all would enjoy this story. :D**

* * *

"Miss. Potter, I thought I had informed you that it is _traditional_ for the Champions to start the Yule Ball with their dates." Minerva McGonagall started, giving the girl before her a reproachful look.

Hildegarde Rosaleen Potter's face was as cool and calm as a mid-autumn moon. If the Deputy Headmistress had not been so oblivious due to her current displeasure, she might have noted that those eyes – those almond-shaped startlingly green eyes – were blank, as if confronting a complete stranger whose opinion mattered nothing to her. "You have, Deputy Headmistress. I remembered it as if it was yesterday that you told me about it. Is there a problem?"

McGonagall's frown deepened. She did not know when exactly it started, but now, whether it was during lessons or on those occasions where there was interaction between them, Hildegarde had taken to always addressing to her as "Deputy Headmistress", instead of the habitual "Professor" that all her other students did. Though it was still an appropriate term of respect that she obviously could find no fault in, the indifferent politeness of Hildegarde's tone disturbed her intensely, for it felt as though she had reached a decision that did not bode well for the Hogwarts staff. "There most certainly is, Miss Potter," McGonagall almost snapped, trying to get the conversation back on track, "I understand that you still do not have a date…"

"What makes you think I had not secured a date, Deputy Headmistress?" Hildegarde asked, making a show of examining her fingers.

"To the best of my knowledge, you had neither accepted nor asked any in this school, male or female. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Finnigan were especially vocal about it." McGonagall observed, momentarily distracted by how immaculately manicured Hildegarde's fingernails were. And…why had she failed to notice how her student's hands – which were unnaturally calloused for her age – had become so soft and smooth, as if porcelain had been refined from an earthenware mould?

"Mr. Ronald Weasley and I have not been on speaking terms ever since he refused to believe that I was enrolled into this tournament against my will, and Mr. Seamus Finnigan and I were never the best of friends." Hildegarde pointed out flatly. Once upon a time, she might have been hurt about how her own Head of House was so ignorant of the events occurring in her own backyard, but not anymore. "Then again, given how their grades testify to their never being the sharpest tools in the shed, and how swiftly news travels at Hogwarts, I must say I am surprised you are still under the impression that I am still intimate friends with them, and that you still view them as an accurate reliable source of information regarding me, Deputy Headmistress."

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Finnigan seemed to believe otherwise, Miss. Potter, and surely you would agree that Miss. Granger is a trustworthy and dependable source." McGonagall protested, a faint tint of red on her cheeks betraying her mortification.

Hildegarde gave a little sigh and raised her head to look at McGonagall in the eye. "Hermione would love to believe she knows everything there is to know, but she does not, and I am beginning to doubt she would ever bring herself to accept that. But to answer your question, Deputy Headmistress, I do have a date for the Yule Ball."

McGonagall stared at her, and for a brief moment Hildegarde was tempted to laugh at the wide-eyed, half-opened-mouth countenance that was the old woman's face, especially since said woman herself had once described such an expression as uncouth. "You do?"

Hildegarde nodded, and as she did, her night-dark hair caught the rays of afternoon sunlight, compelling McGonagall to register the subtle, iridescent sheen of purple, green, and blue that spoke of meticulous care and burgeoning sensuality. The Transfiguration Professor also could not help but note that Hildegarde's hair was now a long, glossy waterfall that fell clear to her waist. _How was it that she had never realised how beautiful it had become until now?_ The shiny silken length of it practically begged one to run his or her hands through. "Yes, Deputy Headmistress, I do." Hildegarde's voice jolted her back to reality, but it was debatable as to whether it was for the best, for a slight shiver ran down McGonagall's spine as she at last realised the utter indifference in those emerald eyes, framed by gorgeous lashes that seemed thicker and darker than those of her late mother's. "I did not ask anyone from this school, for I have given up on them once and for all."

At this, McGonagall raised her eyebrows to high heaven. "What do you mean by that, Miss. Potter?"

"Plainly and simply, Deputy Headmistress, I do not care anymore for Hogwarts' good opinion. I do not care anymore what Hogwarts' residents think of me. Why should I, when I have never ever been viewed as a living, breathing, thinking, and _feeling_ flesh-and-blood human being in this place? When I first set foot here, I had believed it to be a beautiful golden dream coming true for me, and I had finally found a home where I could, at last, be happy. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. Hopelessly, irredeemably, unforgivably wrong. The vast majority of you here are determined to view me as only a force of nature, a weapon against any and all threats. If I fail to live up to your expectations, you will not only shun me, but go out of your way to be cruel to me, and that has happened more times than I cared to count. Whenever it happens, very, very few have enough common pity to at least give me a kind word even if they are unable to defend me."

"Miss. Potter –"

"Did I say anything wrong, Deputy Headmistress? Actions always speak louder than words, and facts always speak louder than any eloquence. Whether you want to admit or not, my being a Champion of the Triwizard Tournament itself is actually a classical testament as to how inadequate Hogwarts truly is, and how almost no one here believes I am a human being just like any other, with _feelings_ that are as vulnerable to hurt as any other ordinary person's. Despite the fact that everything was robbed from me – my parents, my childhood, my innocence, my right to a private normal life – to give this forsaken world a second dawn, and I had saved this entire school numerous times from fates too tragic to imagine, almost everyone here is ever too willing to believe in the very worst of me, and always too ready to treat me as though I am something to be flushed down the toilet."

"That is not true, Miss. Potter, and you know it." By now, one would have expected Minerva McGonagall to flare up, but there was something in Hildegarde's voice that made her own become ineffectually soft. Perhaps, somewhere deep down within this prideful determined woman who worshipped the very ground that Albus Dumbledore walked on, a shred of independence and decency was starting to rebuke her for overlooking many things that she had initially deemed as insignificant. "I cannot deny that your being forced to become a Champion is a grievous error that should never have occurred, but –"

Hildegarde laughed a sad, heartbroken little laugh that made McGonagall's protests die on her lips. "Truly? Are you really saying what I am hearing you say?"

"Miss. Potter –"

"I have said it before, and I will say it again: I did not enter this tournament out of my own free will. I was _forced_ into it by the adults who were supposed to be responsible for the safety and welfare of each and every student in their charge, and for preventing such incidents from happening. My supposed best friend, Ronald Weasley, with whom I shared a dormitory, whose sister I saved, and with whom I been through thick and thin for the first three years of Hogwarts life, refused to believe me over a scandalous lie that any true friend could easily see through. He called me a liar and a cheat, and teamed up with Seamus Finnigan to devote weeks to insulting me to my face and behind my back. Many others also publicly accused me of being a liar and a cheat, and I do not remember a single staff member saying anything about it. Many others proudly wore badges that proclaimed _"Potter Stinks"_ , and I do not recall a single staff member opposing that degrading harassment. In fact, some of the staff encouraged and participated in this bullying. Even now, these people who embody fickleness are perfectly willing to be led by a conscienceless tabloid reporter because she always gratifies their dark satisfaction for filthy scandals, and are waiting for me to put one toe out of their ever-changing line to condemn me again for the Gods-know-what time."

At this, McGonagall had the grace to look ashamed. There was nothing she could say to that – it was too shrewd an assessment, and there was only so much that her Scottish pride and her rose-coloured idolisation of Dumbledore enabled her to overlook or deny. Then, with a sickening jolt, she realised the mistake she had made through this interrogation-like inquiry – by making clear her initial assumption that Hildegarde had not obliged with her request to find a date for the ball, she not only categorised herself among the people who condemn and curse without first confirming all the necessary facts, but also betrayed her belief in those wild rumours about Hildegarde's sexual orientation. "I am sorry, Miss. Potter," she apologised with all the gentle sincerity that she could muster. "I am very sorry about all you had been forced to endure because of this tournament. You may rest assured that I will be speaking to the Headmaster about this, and we will be doing everything we can to reduce the burden on your shoulders. Please rest assured that things would get better."

Hildegarde shrugged her shoulders, a glimmer of age-old grief flashing through her otherwise serene features. "There is no need for you to waste your time or energy in going to the Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress. The damage has already been done, and though the Headmaster might believe otherwise, there are certain damages in this world that are genuinely irreparable. Clothes can be mended if they are damaged. Houses can be rebuilt if they are damaged. Some things can be repaired if they are damaged. But once a heart is damaged, sometimes, there is nothing that can truly heal it. All it can be done is to ensure that it no longer festers or bleeds. I am a human being, Deputy Headmistress, and I have a heart that is as vulnerable to being damaged as any other person's, and it has been broken yet again. At the very least, the Headmaster should have been able to tell the school that I did not do it, and it should have been within his capacities to prevent me from becoming an object of ridicule for a wrong I did not commit. His word carries an incomparable amount of weight, and his power is tremendous, but the fact that he has done nothing regarding this matter tells me so much."

"Miss. Potter, Professor Dumbledore –"

"Has failed me. I am sorrier than I can ever express for wounding your pride by saying this about your idol, Deputy Headmistress, but I honestly cannot interpret it in any other way. Once upon a time, I did think of him as a very great, very powerful, and very lovable good wizard with a sincere heartfelt care for each and every student in this school, but not anymore. Too much has happened to me over the last four years, and I can no longer maintain the exquisite ideal illusion that you could still live in."

"You…you…you no longer like it here at Hogwarts, Miss. Potter?"

"No." Hildegarde replied without any trace of hesitation or reluctance, and at that confirmation Minerva's heart sank. "Not anymore, Deputy Headmistress. I can honestly tell you that I am considering other options, now more than ever."

 _Oh, no! What is she saying? What am I hearing? What to do? What to do? ...Albus! I need to tell Albus about this! Yes! Albus would put things to right, as he always does…_

"Truth be known, Deputy Headmistress, even if you did not intend to summon me today, I was still intending to come see you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. There is something that I have to tell you."

With the very same lack of doubt that she had when confirming McGonagall's fears that she no longer had any love for Hogwarts, Hildegarde removed the Gryffindor badge from her school robes, and unfastened the red-and-gold tie about her neck. She had once taken pride in them, these accessories that seemed to prove that she was a worthy daughter of her parents, who had worn them as well during their own school years. However, her parents had belonged to a previous generation, and her pride in being a Gryffindor had actually been lost a long time ago. One of the greatest, costliest mistakes this world – and even she herself – had made was the common misconception of her only being her parents in miniature, but she was neither James Potter nor Lily Potter. She was _Hildegarde Rosaleen Potter_ , and it was time she moved on from her parents' shadows, though she would always treasure their memory in her heart. As McGonagall stared with widening eyes, Hildegarde handed her the badge and tie.

"I no longer wish to be a part of what this represents," she said as she laid it across the polished wood of her desk.

Minerva McGonagall's astonishment was beyond description. She stared at her, her colour alternating between shades of red and white, but found herself at a loss for words. There was such a note of finality in Hildegarde's voice that McGonagall had no doubts the girl was being irrevocably serious.

"Consider this my resignation from Gryffindor House, Deputy Headmistress. I have moved out of Gryffindor Tower, and I will no longer be attending your classes."

"Miss. Potter?!"

"As I have told you, Deputy Headmistress, the damage has been done, and I have reached the very ends of my tether. You can, of course, deduct all the points you want and issue me all the detentions you wish for my impertinence towards you, but I will neither regret nor recant this. For the current foreseeable future, I will only be attending _Charms_ classes, for it is now the only class that ensures I am still treated with a semblance of courtesy and respect, but I will have nothing else to do with the other classes, or the rest of this school. If I survive this farce of a tournament, I will be looking into alternative options for my education."

"Do you know what you are saying? Do you have any idea of what you are doing? No matter what grievances you have with this school, there are still certain boundaries that you should not cross, you foolish, thoughtless girl! Go to the Headmaster at once! He will set you straight!"

When McGonagall was done shouting, she wished she could have bitten out her tongue, for it struck her that, if anything, this lapse of control would only give Hildegarde another perfect excuse.

Indeed, Hildegarde merely stared at her, her increasingly beautiful face as lovely as a blooming midsummer rose whose thorns were silently ready for battle. The civility of the indifference in her eyes had given way to the bitter cold of a ruthless winter, and McGonagall started to sweat in the eternity of that gaze – a gaze that, she fancied, would have even Severus Snape shrinking back in fear. It seemed as though it was she, Minerva McGonagall, who was the foolish, thoughtless girl that she had accused Hildegarde Potter of being. "You are mistaken, Deputy Headmistress. I am in perfect control of my faculties, and I am perfectly aware of what I am doing." Hildegarde objected, her tone as indifferent as ever. Yes, this old woman's thoughts, emotions, and behaviour had ceased to matter to her a long time ago, and she was surprised by what a relief it was. "The Triwizard Tournament is only open to those who are of age. Hence, since I had to compete, I must be considered as being of age, which in turn gives me the right to decide whether or not I remain at Hogwarts, as well as the freedom to consider other options. I am telling you this in advance only to spare you and your beloved infallible Headmaster the shock of discovering this too late, for I am determined to show you two a courtesy that neither of you had ever deemed me worthy of. I have had enough of being viewed as a weapon that must make no mistake. I have had enough of suffering from this school's lack of fairness, equality, tolerance, and basic courtesy. I no longer care about what this school thinks, what this school wants, and what this school believes to be right. I make my own future. Accept it or not, I will no longer set foot in your class, or any other class where neither courtesy nor respect exists, and I will be leaving in time."

Hildegarde could have laughed at the priceless expression on McGonagall's face. Just as she was about to turn the door handle and exit, she hesitated, contemplating silently for a moment, then spoke in a restrained voice that belied fourteen years of inexpressible hurt, "I still remember my very first night at Hogwarts, when you welcomed my batch of students. I remembered how you explained that one's House would be something like one's family at Hogwarts, and my first impression of you was that of a teacher who, despite being strict, clever, and would not hesitate to enforce discipline when necessary, was still fair, well-meaning, and could be trusted to be there for any student when he or she needed you the most. But afterwards…" she shook her head, as if wanting to shake away those lingering traces of the disillusioned child who realised long ago that her own Head of House did not truly care. "I will ask you this, Deputy Headmistress: has my House, _your House_ , truly treated me as part of a family? Have you truly been fair? Been well-meaning? Have you truly been there for any student in their times of desperate need?"

If Hildegarde had bothered to turn her head back to look at McGonagall's face, she might have derived some sort of intensely minimal pleasure at how the Deputy Headmistress looked thoroughly ashamed of herself. But Hildegarde did not, and there was no reason for her to delight anyway in such an insignificant pleasure which only proved that, for her faults, Minerva McGonagall was not as hopeless of remedy as she had believed her to be.

 _Well, you have made your choice from the moment where, despite your own personal misgivings, you let Albus Dumbledore abandon me on the Dursleys' doorstep. Now, the time has come for me to make my own, and the future I seek most definitely does not need or even want you in the least…_

"Remember this, Deputy Headmistress: though I am no longer a member of your House, I still have a date for the Yule Ball. You may rest assured of that. Since there is a possibility that we will no longer be speaking as intimately as we had, allow me to wish you every imaginable joy and happiness that your choices in life could possibly bring you. Good day."

* * *

Hildegarde had expected to be summoned to Dumbledore's office that very same day, as she knew McGonagall was bound to inform him of their fateful confrontation in her office. However, much to her surprise, the expected summon did not come. Not that day. Not the following day. Not in any of the subsequent days. Oh, sure, during those occasions where she and Dumbledore had eye-contact, she saw a half-worried, half-apologetic look in his eyes, but he made no attempt to try to exercise the so-called damage control that Hildegarde had been so certain was coming. Instead, it appeared whenever plans he had concocted were of a different sort. There were numerous times when Hildegarde saw either McGonagall, or Sprout, or even both approaching her with a determined look, only to be intercepted by none other than Dumbledore himself. If Flitwick knew for sure what was going on, the only indication he gave was to enforce the anti-bullying, anti-prejudice policy that made his class the only one that Hildegarde still attended.

Severus Snape, however, was another story altogether. Though she no longer attended his class, it was impossible for her to utterly evade him, or to ensure that she caught no glimpse of him at all. On those rare occasions where she had eye-contact with him, or they encountered each other, it seemed as though he wanted to either empty more than his usual buckets of vitriol over her, or even strangle her with his bare hands – the look on his face was bitterer than any lemon. In the next instant, however, that spiteful vindictive look would be replaced by one of brand neutrality, and he would storm off without a word, as if she had never been there to begin with.

 _It must be costing him every ounce of self-control he could muster for him to keep his distance from me, instead of singling me out to force-feed me his usual poisons, and encouraging his devout minions to follow in his wicked lead. That cold-hearted, unhappy, spiteful hypocrite who is so determined to make me as miserable as possible._ Hildegarde reflected to herself as she sat under the shade of an imposingly tall tree. Ever since the ridiculous drama that was her becoming a Champion started, the deepest, densest part of the Hogwarts gardens had become one of her refuges – during the day, that is. It was the perfect place to escape the cruelty of those whom she had once thought were her trustworthy friends, as well as the shamelessness of those who firmly believed her life was their own personal show. _I wonder what it was that my Mommy ever saw in him to view him as a dear friend. All those years of believing in him, making excuses for him to others, to even her own parents…well, I made that same mistake as well with Ron, and it seems to be increasingly evident now that I had also made it with Hermione…_

Parting ways with Ron had been painfully difficult for Hildegarde, for she did view him once as her first real friend, and the memories of more than three years could not be discarded as easily as she hoped. However, thanks to her new love and her new strength, she knew that her decision had been an accurate one, no matter how some thought it selfish and unforgiving of her. Even now, as she recalled how Ron had tried to apologise after she passed the First Task with flying colours, she felt a twinge of anger and resentment, though time had now tempered it with a resigned sorrow. She knew that it was unfair towards Hermione, who gave signs that her feelings for Ron were obviously advancing to be beyond friendship, but she was adamant in severing that particular tie for good. She would also admit she absolutely felt no guilt over the corpse-pale fear on Ron's face as he fled from her after she told him to get out of her sight, and McGonagall's interrogation had vanquished whatever pity she had had after being consistently subjected to his look of comingled grief and remorse.

It was the thought of Hermione, however, that caused her to feel a pang of genuine pain and distress. When Ron turned against her, Hermione had opted for a neutral stance, taking every bit of care not to get entangled in their quarrel. Hence, when she permanently renounced Ron as her friend after the First Task, she was expecting Hermione to rebuke her in her typical self-righteousness, and demand that they go after Ron to patch things up. Instead, the bookworm had sincerely apologised to her after the First Task, explaining with open unfeigned emotion that her neutrality stemmed from her extreme fear of losing either her or Ron, for they were her only true friends at Hogwarts, and both were equally precious to her. Though Hildegarde did understand Hermione's apprehensions, their current relationship was still strained.

 _Am I being too petty? Too unforgiving? Am I being too hard on Hermione? Maybe I am, but I just cannot help myself. I have asked myself about this more times now than I can count. I have tried numerous times to clear my mind, to judge myself, to put aside all favour and all indulgence to properly identity my desires. But every time I do so, I always reach the same conclusion: it will only be a matter of time before I end my friendship with Hermione as well. Hermione is one of the most brilliant girls have I ever met, and I know she does try her very best to be a dear friend, but I cannot deny that she has also been becoming more and more autocratic over the years. No one can, actually. Parvati and Lavender are forever wondering out loud as to why I actually count her as one of my best friends, and in nine out of ten cases, their queries over this are not meant in jest or spite, but in genuine confusion. Even Neville seems to keep her at a distance. It is an unspoken fact at Hogwarts that, apart from Ron and I, no other student is interested or has any inclinations in speaking to her, let alone becoming friends with her._

The thought of Hermione then led her to consider everyone else. Secrets did not remain secrets for long at Hogwarts, and everyone noticed how Flitwick's class was the only one that Hildegarde still attended. The more alarming issues were, of course, the fact that she no longer wore the Gryffindor colours, and her bed was no longer slept in, as if she had never been there to begin with. Clarifying with those whom she was still on speaking terms with was of no help either, and if anything, it only served to worsen one's sense of dread. For instance, Neville Longbottom, who had miraculously developed a steely backbone in a short time, went about with a face like thunder. Anyone who dared to ask him about Hildegarde's future plans was stared out of countenance for their impertinence. "Where was your support when this fiasco started?" He demanded of the Weasley twins and Ginny when they approached him. "Where were you when that cruel, faithless brother of yours called Hildegarde names and turned almost the entire school against her? Sleeping in your beds? Laughing together at Hildegarde, believing that this mess had been a prank gone wrong on her part? Well, this is no dream. This is not a prank gone wrong. I may not be brainy, but even I can tell that this is yet another sinister plot to get Hildegarde _literally killed_. She has been in grave danger since she set foot in this school, and the lot of you who call yourselves her friends have really done everything you possibly could to _help_ her, have you not? You have shown your true colours this year, and I am beyond appalled by them. They are what I would have expected from the likes of Malfoy and Snape."

"We made a mistake, we know that now." Ginny retorted, flushing with shame-fueled anger. "And are you really in any position to criticise us, Neville? I do not remember you having ever been such a staunch defender of Hildegarde before. In fact, if memory serves, you tried to stop her from saving the Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who. I do not remember you by her side when she killed the Basilisk and destroyed Riddle's memory. I do not remember you helping her to fend off Dementors and even the Ministry itself to get her godfather to safety."

"At least I woke up! At least I realised that I did not want to live my life as someone who was too afraid to even breathe, too cowardly to stand up for what I know to be right! I admit, I was once uncertain about a lot of things, but now I am not!" Neville snarled fiercely, causing the three Weasleys to shrink back in amazed fear – they had never seen this side of him before. "Of course, you three can continue to bury your heads in the sand, and accusing me of twisting things, but this is the reality I know: it should not have been up to Hildegarde to save the Philosopher's Stone from Tom Riddle. It should not have been up to her to save you, Ginerva Weasley, from Riddle's memory and the Basilisk. It should not have been up to her to save her godfather from those whom our world has entrusted with enforcing peace, justice, and equality. And most of all…she should not be forced against her will into this wretched tournament, where people have either been killed or paralysed for life!"

"But we are sorry!" Fred protested. "We know we messed up! We are trying to –"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, save it, you lot of fools! There is no excuse for why you have failed this latest test of friendship, and you know it. You think that your apologies, your attempts at making amends would make Hildegarde forgive and forget how she has been treated by the lot of you?"

Luna Lovegood's method of fending off unwanted queries regarding her new friend perhaps did not surpass that of Neville's, but certainly rivalled it: she would simply go away from them, as if deeming them unworthy of her even noting their very presence…

"Hildegarde?"

The beautiful young girl looked up. A tall and athletic built, dark chestnut hair flecked with gold, warm blue-grey eyes, and a full sensual mouth that was currently fixed in a line of genuine concern: Cedric Diggory. "Oh, Cedric."

If there was one valid gain Hildegarde had acquired from the tournament, it would be the new friend she had found in the Hufflepuff Champion. Cedric, with his dignity and quiet strength, was always kind to her, and it was her heartfelt opinion that his sense of decency was a million times stronger than Ron's and Hermione's combined. Where she was concerned, he was not one to be swayed by the inconsiderate behaviour and unpleasant opinions of others, including those Hufflepuffs who called themselves his dearest friends. In fact, he had been the very first to protest against the _"Potter Stinks"_ badges, going as far as to erupt into a fit of anger in public – throwing the badge that was meant for him to wear on the ground and stomping on it harshly, shouting into the stunned faces of his avid supporters that he would not lower himself to their shameful degree, and that he would help her, _his fellow Champion_ , in any way he could.

It was yet another strange twist of fate that Hildegarde was, at times, still puzzled over when she recalled. By right, they should have been rivals, but he actually defended her against this new bullying, and proceeded to prove how he was a man of his word by making a great sincere effort to get to know her, as well as those extremely few whom she was still on intimate speaking terms with…he managed to wear down the barriers that she had erected due to Ron's betrayal and Hermione's neutrality, enough for her to include his name on the depressingly short list of confidants. Yes, though he was obviously unable to rectify Hogwarts' general fickle attitude, he still did whatever he could – unlike Hildegarde, who had been deliberately kept in dark ignorance, Cedric was raised in the British wizarding world, and therefore knowledgeable in how to get things done. He was also well-aware of the privileges and power that he was entitled to as a Champion of the Triwizard Tournament, and was too glad to utilise those to ensure that both he and Hildegarde were afforded whatever protection available.

Hence, though she was uncertain of what strings Cedric had pulled, and the level of spite she had been forced to endure for the umpteenth time was still the straw that broke the camel's back, it was not as bad as her initial pessimism had feared it would be, and for that Cedric had her everlasting genuine gratitude. Her Mommy, being a Prefect and later Head Girl during her own Hogwarts days, would no doubt be disappointed if she knew her daughter was harbouring such thoughts, but the fact that Cedric's solution to "worst-case scenarios" was providing black eyes to anyone who dared make fun of her in his presence was a secret pleasure she could not bring herself to regret. The look on Draco Malfoy's face when he realised this the hard way was a memory that she would always cherish.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am. Why?"

"You…seemed to be in another universe entirely. For a moment I thought something terrible had happened to you, causing your spirit to literally leave your body."

Hildegarde shook her head and gave him a warm assuring smile. If she was not still partly lost in the maze of her own thoughts, she might have noted how the older boy flushed when she smiled at him. _Merlin, Luna was not exaggerating when she said that Hildegarde was blossoming like a flower. She is growing to be beyond pretty, and her smile…it really is more powerful than any charm I have ever studied,_ he observed to himself. _It grows slowly, and then shines, like the sun heralding a new day, or a full moon illuminating the night sky with silver fire._ "Do not worry, Cedric. Nothing terrible has happened to me… _yet_ at this current point in time. I am fine, and I have no intentions of following in Professor Binn's footsteps," she replied, taking care to somewhat diminish the tense atmosphere by making reference to the rumour about how their History Professor managed to linger in this living world despite leaving his body for good. "I was just doing some self-reflection over some things."

"That must have been some _serious_ self-reflection. I mean, I have never seen you look the way you did just now," Cedric observed thoughtfully. "It was like you were totally lost."

For a moment, a look of faraway sadness flashed across Hildegarde's face, so quickly that Cedric almost did not catch it, but he did. "Yes. Perhaps I was lost. In fact, I think I have been lost for as long as I could remember. It was only until recently did my mind start to clear, and I was able to make a greater sense of things, to sort the mess that was my life out."

"Is it your former friends?" Cedric took a seat on the ground, his position near enough to offer a steadying presence or even a comforting shoulder for one to cry upon if necessary, but also far enough to be categorised as civil, not really intruding upon one's private space. His eyes and voice were warm with concern. "Is it Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger?"

Though he did not know them as intimately as Hildegarde did, in his heart of hearts, Cedric Diggory had never thought Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were appropriate friends for Hildegarde. To be more precise, he belonged to the category of people whose constant wonder was why someone like Hildegarde, who could have had her pick if she bothered to dance to the tune of fame and fortune, would view such a gluttonous Gryffindor version of Draco Malfoy and such an opinionated, narrow-minded peacock as her best friends, especially since it was as plain as day that they were wholly ignorant of the true definition of friendship. Yes, Cedric's colours and dormitory were different from theirs. He was three years their senior, and so had never shared a class with them before. He had never had anything that came remotely close to a true conversation with them before. But he had still heard some of their tirades, and he had to admit that both Ron and Hermione could take stubbornness and intolerance to a new level, and it was disgracefully astounding as to how they were either oblivious or indifferent to the emotional wounds they gave Hildegarde through their offensive behaviours.

If he were to be honest with himself, Cedric knew that he was being unfair towards Ron and Hermione. As his mother had often told him, one never knew what it was like to be another person until one put on his or her shoes and walk a mile in them. But no matter how he looked it, his conclusion was that Hildegarde would be much, much better off without the likes of Ron and Hermione, though he would never tell her this, of course. He would also never tell her of the intense heartwarming relief he had felt on her behalf when he verified that she and Ron were no longer friends.

 _I did not know you then, Hildegarde, and so I thought that they were still decent. But now that I do know you to an extent, I say that you can do without them. You can do a million times better than them. Whether they admit or not, they were holding you back, trying to shape you into their image of who they believe you should be, instead of helping you to mature into your own unique person._

"They take up at least half of it, Mr. Weasley more than Hermione." Hildegarde confessed truthfully.

"May I give you a piece of heartfelt advice, Hildegarde?"

"Sure. What is it, Cedric?"

"Before I start, I apologise to you first, Hildegarde: I am sorry if what I am going to say hurts you, but it cannot be helped, not if I want to be honest with you." Cedric's current gravity made him seem older than his seventeen years, and Hildegarde had never seen his sculpted countenance so intent before. "Sometimes, endings are new beginnings in disguise. Without first learning to live above the inevitable pain that an ending might bring you, you might never know the joy that a new beginning could bring. Ronald Weasley is a pure-blood son from a poor family. The one true difference between him and Draco Malfoy is money. Of course, I might be mistaken, for I do not know him _that well_ , but I believe that deep down, he is just as bigoted as Mr. Malfoy. From what I have heard and observed of him, he lacks any motivation and any sort of real work ethic. You might not be aware of this, Hildegarde, but do you know that, even now, the way he speaks of you actually makes it evident he believes you and he are _engaged_?"

"Oh, I am aware of that, Cedric." Hildegarde almost laughed at the surprise on her fellow Champion's handsome face. "I may have gone into a seclusion of sorts, but I still have my means. You may rest assured that your observation of Mr. Weasley has not pained me at all, for he is only a familiar stranger to me now. I understand what is it you are trying to tell me. Mr. Ron Weasley would most likely grow to be one of those cocksure husbands who is always making enormous demands on his wife, whose place he would insist is in the home, raising her children, and her most sacred charge is to ensure that the kitchen is perpetually stocked with delicacies for him to gorge himself upon at any time of the day. I may be a lot of things, but I think I could do better with having a husband like that in my bed." The very thought of sharing a bed with Ron was repugnant to her, so much so that she shivered and rubbed her arms. "Mr. Weasley will mean well, that much I would give him, but he will strike his wife if she looks at another man and blame her for the attention of another man's smile. That is a lesson that he has only taught me too well this year. He suffers from an understandable sense of inferiority due to his being the youngest of six brothers, but he is unwilling to put in the necessary effort to properly distinguish himself, and he cannot tolerate those who surround him outshining him, even if the outshining only exists in his own mind." Hildegarde shook her head and smiled at Cedric. "Please rest assured that he is neither my friend, nor my fiancé, and by the blessings of the Gods, he would never be anything more than a familiar stranger to me."

Cedric looked pleased. "Thank goodness that there have been no hurt feelings on your part over my observation, and that you understand the truth about Mr. Weasley. I was worried that you might be angry and upset with me over my honesty."

Hildegarde shook her head again. "Believe me, your honesty towards me is a rare and priceless gem that I would always treasure, for I have lied to by almost everyone I had ever encountered so far," she explained, a razor-sharp pang of grim satisfaction stinging her as painfully as one of Mrs. Dursley's (she refused to acknowledge _that woman_ as any relative of hers) slaps when she registered the inexpressible shock on Cedric's face by this brutal statement. "Yes, Cedric, that is true. If our Headmaster, or my former Head of House, or our Potions Master were here, they would no doubt dismiss it as either a lie or an exaggeration on my part, and would go on to punish me in the severest ways imaginable for voicing what they would interpret as an unforgivable blasphemy, but it is true. Ever since my parents were killed, those who forcefully declared themselves as the primary figures of power and authority in my life have lied to me in every single way, and countless others who believe those people could do no wrong have followed their lead. I may be only little more than fourteen years old, but I already have had enough deceit, evasions, and empty platitudes to last me a lifetime."

"Hildegarde…"

Hildegarde reached out her hand and Cedric took it and waited, not knowing what she was going to say to him next. "Cedric, I know that it was only recently – when the fiasco that was my becoming a Champion started – did we grow to be on more intimate terms, and I still do not know you that well."

"Be that as it may, please believe me when I say that I have never lied to you ever since, Hildegarde. By my very honour as a wizard, from the very moment we started to speak and interact more, I have always been honest with you."

Hildegarde lowered her voice to a whisper. "I know, Cedric, I know. I do believe you. You are among the handful of people at Hogwarts whom I trust enough to talk to, which is why I will confide in you this: many people believe that hate is the opposite of love, and they could not be more wrong. The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Before I hardened the hatred that had welled in my heart to indifference, I believe that I had run mad, quite mad, with fear and unhappiness."

Cedric knew it was cowardly, but he was relieved to see that Hildegarde's beautiful green eyes were clear of tears. He did not want to see the person whom he was rapidly growing to view as a true special friend break down. He held tightly to her hand. "What is it?"

"I doubt them. I doubt the two whom I once believed to be the best friends any girl could have ever asked for. I doubt if they were ever honest with me to begin with. If I doubt this, the memory of the girl I once was would shatter irreparably, and yet I do doubt."

Cedric did not know what to say to this. Her grip on his hand was tight, but not painful, as if she was still taking care not to hurt him in spite of her turmoil. "Hildegarde?"

"Cedric, answer me a question and then I will never think of this again. But please do answer me truly, and tell no one."

"I will, Hildegarde."

"Do you think it possible that my becoming friends with Mr. Weasley and Hermione had been a setup? An elaborate scheme devised by someone who would go any lengths to ensure that I dance only to his tune?" Hildegarde's colour was steady, but her eyes were madly intent, as though the trace of the girl she had formerly been was now undergoing some Herculean struggle. "And they had never, not even for a brief moment, thought of me as a friend, but as a mere means to an end? Please tell me your opinion on this, Cedric. I know that it is the question of a person as insane and paranoid as Alastor Moody. I know that you do not know them forward, backward, and inside out. But it is also because you do not know them thoroughly that enables you to make a better, more reliable judgement than I can, for I am too emotionally-compromised in this matter. I know that you have the gift of seeing the truth and speaking true, just like Luna and Neville. Hence, I am asking you now to use your gift and tell me: have they been faithless right from the very beginning? I have to know. I need that sense of closure, if only for the memory of the girl I had once been."

Cedric was no fool. He was aware that this question was not only centered on Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. It was, after all, a confirmed fact at Hogwarts that Flitwick was the only teacher whose classes Hildegarde still attended. Cedric himself had been sorely disappointed when Sprout, the Head of House whom he once revered almost as dearly as he did his mother, turned against Hildegarde over the tournament, and subsequently refused to listen to reason whenever he tried to change her views. Snape's loathing of all things Potter was legendary right from the start. McGonagall was always so severe to all students, and seemed to be perpetually overwhelmed by her responsibilities. Dumbledore…

 _"When you are at Hogwarts, no matter where you are, no matter what time it is, you must always be wary of Albus Dumbledore, my boy. You must be constantly on your guard with him without him knowing it._ _Your teachers, your friends, your peers, and perhaps even your father might believe otherwise, but that man is neither an Angel of God, nor the reincarnation of Merlin Ambrosius. In fact, whether he admits it or not, one of his favourite hobbies is turning those who surround him into his slaves. And the real tragedy is that countless people willingly go along with him, smiling blindly while he leads them to their slaughter. If I had had my way back then, and if the circumstances were in my favour, you would have attended another school instead. That is how much I do not trust him. But it does no good to lament over past regrets, and there are not enough people in our world who have the sense to see him for what he is...just beware of Albus Dumbledore, my son. Beware. I did not bear and raise you to be one of his slaves or sycophants."_

The advice that his mother had secretly provided him with as he matured over the years, and which she never failed to repeat whenever he came home for the holidays, seemed to ring again in his ears, loud and clear. Like any obedient son, he had taken it to heart, but it soon became evident that there was no particular need for him to be utterly guarded against someone who never singled him out for special attention, which led him to almost dismiss his mother's advice as excessive concern for her son's welfare. However, now that Cedric was mature enough to interpret matters from different perspectives, he could see that, ever since Hildegarde set foot in Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore slowly but gradually revealed a side of him that dramatically contradicted the ideal image he was forever trying to portray to the world. And his so-called management of this tournament…

"No." Part of him was surprised with himself for this, but he would not lie to Hildegarde. She had asked him for his own personal opinion, not his mother's, and despite the glaring deficiencies of some people, Cedric felt certain that there were still some lines they would not cross. "Hildegarde, I have an inkling of what you are truly trying to clarify, but I honestly believe that your former friendship with Mr. Weasley and Miss. Granger was not a setup. I believe that it was not someone's plot to control you, and I do not think that they had ever received any sort of monetary reward or generous compensation from that someone by becoming intimate with you. People are complex. We can bring ourselves to do some things that we usually would not consider, but there is still a limit as to how much our conscience allows us to compromise. I know better than to try to assure you that certain people in our world are as lily-white as they try to portray themselves as, but I believe in the end, they _are_ entitled to that amount of decency, no matter how small it might be. On some level, your friendship with them was _real_ once upon a time, but…"

"But it did not work out. Like many other things, it failed the test of time and circumstance. It was not meant to be." Hildegarde breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, she might be done with the past, but her heart was still warmed by the knowledge that she had not been deceived to that extent.

Cedric clasped her hands between his own. "There are still people here who sincerely care for you, Hildegarde. Not because you are the Girl-Who-Lived. Not because you are believed to be a sworn defender against any and all threats. But because you are –"

"I know. Because I am your friend."

Gently, she detached her hands from Cedric and rose to her feet. After taking a few steps in Hogwarts' direction, she turned back to look at him, and he was dazzled by the look of relief and gratitude on her face. It was as if she had finally freed herself of the chains that had bound her for as long as she could remember. "Cedric, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your honesty, your generosity, and your defense of me during this most difficult time. I will never forget the support that you, Neville, and Luna had given me. It was one of my only modes of survival in this wretched, forsaken world where each generation repeats the cycle of mistakes. Thank you, and know that no matter what happens in the future, you are one of those whom I will never forget, and I will always wish you well."

With that, she was gone.

If Cedric was not so distracted by how full his heart had become from Hildegarde's reassurance and well-wishes, he might have noticed Albus Dumbledore stepping from the shadows of the garden, his face wet with tears.

* * *

The day of the ball arrived.

By right, the air itself should be buzzing with rumours about anything, everything. Hogwarts relished in the power of gossip as eagerly as Voldemort had delighted in slaughtering innocents. Instead, the atmosphere was tense and uneasy, as if something dreadful was going to happen. That morning, Dumbledore called a special meeting for the adults in Hildegarde's life in an attempt to try to find a way to reconcile with her.

A pale-faced, red-eyed McGonagall started off by tearing into him, "You advised me not to apologise and explain your reasons to her, saying that she would not listen, and what she needed most was time to cool down after that eruption in my office. You told me to keep my distance from her, for she has every right to be angry, and in her current state, whatever attempts I make might only inflame that righteous anger. Well, what do you say now, Albus? It has been weeks since she practically threw her badge and tie in my face, and I have not seen her in any of my classes. Merlin, I believe she goes out of her way to avoid me, for she does not want to give me the time of day! She no longer sleeps in her bed! She no longer eats in the Great Hall! There has been not even the slightest hint of the thawing from her that you seemed so optimistic about! What do you have to say now to this, Albus? What are we going to do?!"

Dumbledore sighed, for once looking every inch of his many years. "I have made a tremendously grave error in judgement, Minerva. I know that now. I am also at a loss as how we could heal this breach between us and Miss. Potter. This is why I have called you all here. Does anyone have any suggestions? I am all ears."

Flitwick folded his arms. "You just acknowledged that you had made a grave error in judgement, Albus, and yet you are still committing that same error even now."

"What do you mean, Filius?"

"I am referring to the fact that you are delusional enough to believe this mess could still be cleaned up! Anyone can see that Miss. Potter has clearly reached beyond her breaking point! She no longer has any love for any of us, especially you! I have seen the look in her eyes, and her recent behaviour should be more than enough to drive the point home! If you honestly think we can fix this, I believe there is an urgent need for Poppy to have you checked!"

"I have already acknowledged that I made a terrible mistake, Filius. I will not deny that I am to blame most of all for Miss. Potter's denouncing us. She has every right to be angry with me, and I am not trying to defend my previous actions. I am trying to persuade her to believe that we are truly sorry for our roles in her unhappiness, and we want to and are capable of making amends for our mistakes. I want to appeal to her to truly consider giving this school and, by extension, our British wizarding world another chance."

"It is far too late for that, Albus. From what I can see, apart from Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Diggory, and Miss. Lovegood, Miss. Potter does not care for anyone else in this school, for we have given her a multitude of reasons not to."

"She still attends your classes, Filius." McGonagall pointed out, now grasping at any straws in her desperation to believe the situation was still salvageable. "You yourself confirmed that her attendance is as punctual and regular as ever. She still talks to you, does she not?"

Flitwick sighed. "Only if it concerns her school work, Minerva. Otherwise, she does not say anything else to me, and I am too wary of driving her further away if I try to speak about something that is not work-related. I am sorry to disappoint you, Minerva, but I am no position to even speak of our remorse over how we have failed her, let alone convince her to let us make amends. It is beyond that now."

With his shoulders sagging as if he bore the very weight of world upon them, Dumbledore turned to Sirius and Remus. "Do you two think you could talk to her?"

Remus shut his eyes and shook his head. His hair was greyer than brown now, and the lines on his face and the weariness in his demeanour made him seem far older than his years. Sirius was little better: his dark hair was also streaked with grey, his new clothes seemed too big for his gaunt physique, and his colour was as pale as a corpse's. Violet bruise-like shadows gave his grey eyes a haunted look, but they were now lit with an intensity directed at Dumbledore for his audacious question, "I do not know whether I should applaud your idealism or laugh at your naivety, Albus. The last letter I sent her was returned to me _unopened_. No, Albus. Your ordering me to neither write to her nor provide her with any form of help has cost me any trust I had with her, along with any type of relationship. I mean nothing to her now."

"Remus?"

"The last time I saw her, she simply stared at me with something worse than loathing or contempt. She looked at me as if I was not there, as if I had never been there at all, and then she went away. She can no longer bear the very sight of me."

Dumbledore groaned aloud – a rare moment. "She also would neither give me the time of day, nor even look in my direction this time. I was hoping that, once her anger had cooled, she would come to me."

Sirius gave a scornful chuckle. "Why not ask your favourite Potions Master or the Weasleys then?" he asked, the bitterest of smiles on his well-worn face. "Are the Weasleys not your most ardent supporters? Is Severus Snape not your most infallible, most trusted advisor? Why not ask them?"

"Speaking of Severus and the Weasleys, why are they not present at this meeting, Albus?" Flitwick looked around, confused. Now that it was brought up, he realised that the meeting only consisted of six people: him, Albus, Minerva, Sirius, Remus, and Pomfrey. "I had thought that you would definitely include them in this. And wait, where is Pomona?"

The expected passionate defense did not come. Instead, Albus Dumbledore shut his eyes and hung his head. His ancient countenance was a study in remorse, weariness, and resignation. "I have been a most stubborn old dog, but I have finally taken the lesson of a new trick to heart."

Poppy Pomfrey shook her head miserably, as if she could not believe the nightmare that their situation with Hildegarde had become. "I fear that you have learned it too late, Albus. I remember Miss. Potter's mother, who once most seriously considered becoming a Healer like me. That look in her eyes, which Filius and Remus had just spoken of, is that of her mother's when she ended her friendship with Severus for good. Of course, Severus would never admit this, but if there is one thing I do know for sure about Miss. Potter, it would be that she has inherited her mother's soul, her sound moral principles. Besides this, from what interactions I have had with Miss. Potter over the years, I learned that she has been forced to endure more than anyone should have. She never forgets, and this time, I believe she cannot forgive."

"Surely you are mistaken, Poppy," McGonagall interrupted, her eyes wide with panic. She was close to a breakdown. "Even at his very angriest, James forgave after a time."

"Miss. Potter is not her father, Minerva. Did you not hear me just say that her soul is that of her mother's? You have fallen into the same trap that Severus deliberately did. It is not James' wrath that we are confronting now. It is Lily's. Lily never forgave those who abused her trust, and I sincerely believe that if she was alive today, and knew what her daughter was forced to endure, she would do everything she could to have us begging for death. As forgiving as James is, if he was alive today as well, I have no doubts that he would willingly and wholeheartedly help his wife avenge the torment we inflicted upon their daughter."

At that, Remus moaned aloud and Sirius covered his face with his hands. They had been constantly, endlessly cursing themselves for their selfishness and foolishness ever since Hildegarde made it crystal-clear that she wanted nothing more to do with them. If they had been there for Hildegarde right from the very beginning instead of completely entrusting her to Dumbledore, perhaps this whole mess could be avoided. The reality that the pretty little girl whose face once lit up every single time she saw them had matured into a beautiful young woman who could no longer bear the mere sight of them was heartbreaking in the extreme. What have they done? And how were they going to face James and Lily when their time came?

"Is it really out of the question to have her withdrawn from the tournament without her losing her magic, Albus? Or perhaps…is it still possible for the tournament to be cancelled?" Flitwick suggested. "At this point, these are probably the only realistic solutions that might help us persuade Miss. Potter of our sincere remorse over this mess."

"They have occurred to me as well, Filius. But it is as I have told you and the others previously: my hands are tied in this matter."

"And you feel that you had exerted your very best efforts over this matter, do you? That you had exercised all your considerable ingenuity? You had wielded all your overwhelming influence?"

* * *

While the meeting that was destined to be ultimately fruitless went on, Severus Snape was finishing his Gods-know-what glass of firewhisky, as though the courage supposedly provided by the drink could preserve his heart from being chilled by the ice of disfavour.

He did not think it possible, given all the secret understandings between him and Albus Dumbledore, but he was no longer in the Headmaster's good books.

" _I would not be so arrogant to accuse you of being solely responsible for this mess, Severus, but I must say that I am disgusted – yes, absolutely disgusted and disappointed in you for your part in this!"_

" _Headmaster, I –"_

" _No, Severus! You have let your prejudice and your temper dictate your behaviour towards Miss. Potter for too long! I am placing you on probation, effective immediately, and from now on, you are to leave Miss. Potter alone. Alone in every sense of the word. You are not to talk to her, not to try to approach her, and not to even go anywhere near her. If you happen to encounter her unintentionally, you are still to leave her be without saying a single syllable to her. Do you understand this?!"_

" _With each and every time that she does not attend my lesson, she undermines my authority, and makes me more of a laughing stock in front of the entire school! You know that, Albus! Everyone knows that! And now you order me to just let things b –"_

" _How many times have you made her a laughing stock in front of the entire school then, Severus? How many times have you punished her for wrongs that either exist only in your mind, or were not committed by her? And now she is but a hair's breadth away from leaving this world for good…Severus, do you know how many students scored an O.W.L in Potions ever since you became the Potions Professor?"_

" _I hardly see –"_

" _Silence! That was a rhetorical question! Of course you do not know. If you did, you would not care anyway, for you would push the blame completely to those whom you so shamelessly address as "dunderheads"! Well, there is one thing you should know, Mr. I-Am-The-Best-Potions-Master-In-All-Europe, those "dunderheads" are our future! The very future of our world! They are capable of maturing into productive members of our society, but they have grown up with a life-long loathing of Potions, and I have no doubts that the primary reason is because of their exposure to your viper-shaming venom when they took your subject, which, in turn, also leads them to either being barred from or give up on their initial job-choices. Do you have any idea what effect this is having on our society? I have noticed this, Severus, though you had failed to in your pride, your vanity, and your determination to believe that the world owes you a debt that can never be paid in full: the numbers of Aurors, Healers, and Potions Masters and Mistresses in our community have been rapidly declining over the years, and all it takes is some investigation for you to be identified as the root cause! Your failure to be worthy of your responsibilities and your inability to grasp the importance of your own subject has dealt our society with a devastating blow, Severus Snape, and I myself am doubtful as to whether this damage can still be repaired!"_

"… _Headmaster…Albus…"_

" _I have given you more than your fair way of leeway over the years, Severus. I have allowed you to favour your House as you had because I understand that the vast majority of everyone else is biased in the opposite direction. Contrary to those who believe that I am getting senile in my old age, my eyes, my ears, and my mind are still functioning, and I am aware of a great many things that happen in this school. I have done my utmost to defend you from the retaliation of those whom you have injured with your venom, and even from the rest of the staff, who have confided in me more times than I can count that it is a supreme disgrace to count you as one of their colleagues. Part of this is because I wanted to demonstrate my appreciation for your services in the fight against Voldemort, and the other part is my desire to make amends for what you had suffered in the Marauders' hands during your school years here. I had also hoped that my tolerance might inspire you to become a better man, someone who could prove that a hardened criminal could change into a respectable productive citizen of our society, but now I see that it was only the idealised delusion of a foolish old man. A delusion, I might add, that has actually shamed me in everyone's eyes."_

" _Ever since I came to you, Albus, I have served you to the very best of my ability. I have made sacrifices for you. I have told you things that I would never ever tell anyone else. You know that, Albus."_

" _As I have said, I am aware of that, which is precisely why for now, the only action that I will be taking is putting you on probation, despite the fact that it was an obvious error to allow you anywhere near children. Be warned, Severus: your abuse of children who are not in your House is at an end. Your abuse of Miss. Potter especially is at an end. From now on, I will be personally reviewing every single point that you award or deduct, as well as every detention that you issue, and they will be subject to reversal at any time. You are to develop a curriculum for your classes, one that I will be personally reviewing as well, you are to properly teach the basics of potion interactions, and you are to properly supervise each and every one of your students, not only those from your own House…"_

Suddenly flaring up with anger as he recalled the private yet legendary outburst that occurred weeks ago, Snape hurled his glass at the mirror across the room. It hit the mirror with surprising accuracy, and then both the glass and the mirror fell apart into reflective fragments on the floor.

Dumbledore had gone on and on, but his final threat was almost as shattering as Lily's tragic death had been: _"If you cannot abide by these new rules, and if you still treat Miss. Potter as abominably as before instead of leaving her be, I will not only expel you from this school, but I will also make sure that you will never ever be able to get another potion-brewing job in Britain. No, I will ensure that you will never ever be able to find paid work in any country that is within my influence, and you will be shocked by how far that extends. You do not want me as your enemy, Severus, for I can and will destroy you if you do not mend your ways for good. Now go, and remember: hold your tongue and leave Miss. Potter be, or else!"_

" _You would turn me away?! With all the information I possess about you and the others?!"_

" _Memories can be modified. Surely you have not forgotten, Severus, that I was the one who defeated the Dark Lord who preceded your former master? That I was once an apprentice to the only-known maker of the Philosopher's Stone? That I had personally taught your former master long before you knew him? If you really believe that I am too old and senile to be an opponent, and it would be a worthy gamble to try your luck against me, be my guest. But do not say that I did not warn you."_

In all his years in Dumbledore's service, only twice did Snape witness a side of the old man that made him understand, more powerfully than anything, how the universal belief that Albus Dumbledore was the only person whom Lord Voldemort feared came about. The first was when he begged Dumbledore to save Lily's life, while making it clear that he did not care in the least whether James and Hildegarde lived or died. Even now, whenever he recalled the look of inexpressible disgust he had received from Dumbledore when the old man rebuked him for that callousness, he still felt as though he was some filthy beast, something unworthy to breathe the same air that everyone else did, let alone be in a position to plead for Lily's life.

This was the second time, and it not only made Snape a million times angrier and more upset than the previous time, but also caused him to be more frightened than he had ever been in his life. It would have been better if the old man was angry when he unleashed his tirade, for it would imply that it was a fleeting rage the passage of time could cool eventually. But it was not. Instead, as he unleashed his wrath, it was done so in a calm chilly manner that clearly indicated Dumbledore was seriously considering as to whether Snape's very life was still worth preserving from his numerous enemies. His gaze was no longer that which Snape had long grown accustomed to and actually took a secret pride in – the gaze that a leader would always give the confidant whom he confided his darkest secrets in, or one that a father would the wayward son who always came back to him in the end. He had looked at him as if he would understand something about him, as if he would unravel his talents so that he might see him unwoven, robbed of everything that had made him once so precious to him. He looked at him like a wizard might look at a goblin-forged antique that had cost him a fortune and that he suddenly saw one day as a worthless counterfeit, and wanted to break into pieces. He looked at him as if he could not believe that he had cost him so dear, and repaid him so little. And not even the facts that Severus Snape was genuinely one of the finest Potions Masters alive, and he guaranteed that the Hogwarts N.E.W.T pass rate was 100% ever since he took over the class could make Dumbledore recant his obvious new view that the bargain had been an _abysmal_ one.

 _It was the same look that Lily always gave me from the moment I slipped and called her a Mudblood. The day I betrayed our friendship by calling her that, she started to hate me. After she ended our friendship, and even after she married James Potter, I still stalked her through every method in my disposal. I had hoped that I could have her all to myself again once her husband and daughter were killed by the Dark Lord, but she cared more for them than she did her own life._

The mere thought of Hildegarde was enough to plunge Snape's mind into greater turmoil. As Hildegarde had suspected, it was costing every ounce of his effort and self-control for him to leave her completely to her devices, but he still managed to abide by Dumbledore's ultimatum. If she rejoiced in the fact that he, the one teacher who truly taught about her about the real world no longer had any power or authority over her, he neither saw nor heard any hint of it, especially considering her estrangement from almost the entire school. He also knew better than to try approaching those whom she was still on speaking terms with, for Dumbledore was truly keeping him on a _very_ tight leash. Since that day when the ultimatum was issued, out of the seven days of the week, there were at least four where the Headmaster would be visibly present in his class to observe his new teaching methods, and on the other three, Snape suspected that he was observing in an invisible state.

Severus Snape was no longer the Emperor of his own class. He could no longer address the students as they deserved to be addressed. Instead of reserving the proper instructions and fair grading for his poor, tormented Slytherins, he now had to open them to all. Merlin, it seemed as though he had to think twice before he spoke any and every word!

Not only that, he was now being closely watched. In nine out of ten cases, especially during his free periods, Dumbledore would be there, his eyes devoid of their usual twinkle, and the habitual grandfatherly smile gone from his lips, as though he was ruthlessly determined to ensure that Snape was genuinely moderating his behaviour, and was leaving Hildegarde be. Needless to say, the wild rumours, the vivid gossip that stemmed from this was as humiliating to Snape as it was unavoidable.

Severus Snape was now treated like someone under considerable suspicion of some horrendous crime, to the extent where he could not talk freely with anyone that was not approved by Dumbledore, and it seemed the Headmaster was also keeping every word he spoke and every action he made under close monitoring as well.

 _I am persona non grata at Hogwarts now! A prisoner! I have been through so much, but I had never expected that it would come to this: under the shadow of Dumbledore's displeasure, retaining only a superficial appearance of my initial position, laughed at by the other staff and those ignorant children, my promising dear Draco and those others with true potential now forbidden to even voice their own opinions, and wholly denied any chances to teach and remind that spoiled, selfish cow of a Potter wretch the lessons that her worthless swine of a father should have learned. Fie upon her!_

One thing was for sure: he could not afford to lose Dumbledore's protection. Though he would never admit it, in his heart of hearts, he knew how hated he was, and it was definitely impossible for him to survive outside Hogwarts' walls without Dumbledore's favour. In the event where the old man were to literally turn his head away while pointing his finger at him, the likes of Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour would most certainly hound on him like goblins scenting gold and gems, not resting until they had wormed all the things he had done in the Dark Lord's service out of him. If that were to happen, Azkaban would be the sweetest of mercies for him.

 _"And now she is but a hair's breadth away from leaving this world for good…"_ It was then that this previous statement from Dumbledore struck Snape like a lightning bolt, making his heart sink deeper into the abyss it was condemned to ever since he lost favour. No, he still did not truly believe that the little Potter wretch would leave the wizarding world for good, but even his hubris did not enable him to overlook her increasing estrangement with the rest of school, as if she had reached some kind of momentous decision that made Dumbledore's fears an existing possibility. His irreconcilable grudge with the memory of James Potter aside, Snape knew only too well that if the Potter wretch were to depart without looking back, given the wizarding world's most commonly practiced habit of looking for scapegoats in awkward situations, he would be amongst the first to be crucified, figuratively and possibly _literally_.

 _What to do? What to do? Oh, what to do?!_

* * *

To Hildegarde, today was the day where she bid farewell to a place she had once believed to be a dream come true. After tonight, her new lover would be taking her some place where she could make a new fresh start, freed of the threat of a false prophecy, the unreasonable expectations of irresponsible teachers, and the ruthless manipulations of a chess master who thought of himself as the Gods' greatest gift to wizard-kind.

It had been a trial amongst the nine sisters, but it was ultimately decided that Euterpe and Terpsichore would be given the honour of attending Hildegarde in the ritual bath she would take before the ball. They gently conducted her to secret chambers that until then did not exist within Hogwarts, and closed the doors snugly with a secret door-bar enchanted with powerful divine spells, ensuring that neither witch nor wizard would be able to detect their new mistress' whereabouts, or intrude upon her privacy. They had drawn water from the sacred Spring of Canathus, in which Hera herself bathed annually to nourish her immortal beauty, and heated it to acceptable temperature with fire that their master had specially borrowed from Hestia's hearth for the occasion. Hildegarde gave a little sigh as Euterpe first lathered her all over with a rich soap that smelled of ambrosia, and then Terpsichore poured golden ewer after golden ewer of the hot spring water over her, splashing her from head to toe, and as she did, each and every stain of the mortal world was gradually removed from Hildegarde's form, and the loveliness of her soul, her very essence itself, became increasingly evident even to the naked eye.

"Beautiful," Terpsichore remarked proudly as the hot spring water trickled over Hildegarde's silken hair and rose-petal skin. "You are so beautiful, Lady Hildegarde."

"How many times have I told you not to address me as "Lady", Lady Terpsichore?" Hildegarde objected, her voice warm with the civil modesty that was her innate nature. "I am only an ordinary human witch, while you, your sisters, and your master are immortal deities whose tales and songs are still celebrated even in the modern world. It is not done for the likes of you to address me with such honorifics. Besides, your master and I…there is nothing definite yet. I am genuinely sorry if this hurts you all, and I mean neither offense nor disrespect, but I still do not know for sure if we are really meant to be."

Euterpe and Terpsichore exchanged one silent glance. Not for the first time, they wished that their lovely new mistress did not enact a Stygian oath from them and their master that they would not personally condemn the likes of the Dursleys and the Hogwarts staff to the torments of Tartarus. Yes, the pathetic little upstart that was Tom Riddle might have been the one who killed their mistress' parents, but it was those who have had the care of their mistress who were to blame for blurring the lines between her sincere natural modesty and that wretched, accursed sense of self-inferiority.

"It is not that I am indifferent to your master's feelings, or that I do not appreciate him. He is the most wonderful man I have ever been blessed to meet, and all that he has done for me was more than I had ever hoped for. It is just –"

"You have been disappointed too many times," Euterpe completed her sentence, her dark eyes warm with understanding and compassion. She was now scrubbing Hildegarde's long white limbs with a soft sun-gold sponge. "You do not want to raise any dreams out of the dust, only to have them cut down."

Hildegarde nodded her dark head as Terpsichore poured another ewer of water over her. She could not see it, of course, but that compliment was no exaggeration. She was _beautiful_. With her glossy black hair rippling past her waist, and her soft, curvaceous body glistening from ambrosial soap and sacred waters that were designed to remove all imaginable filth, Hildegarde looked like a Nereid, one of those sea nymphs whose beauty was legendary even in the world of the Gods. "We can understand that, Lady Hildegarde," Terpsichore said gently, her smile as warm as a midsummer sun as she started to work on Hildegarde's hair. "That is why if you do not mind, my master, my sisters, and I will hope enough for us all. True, not even Zeus the Almighty knows for sure what the Fates have planned, and he has no power to sway their decisions, but I can hope that your luck has turned at long last, and that what you and my master share is meant to be more lasting and more joyous than a mere summer's flirtation."

"Indeed, Lady Hildegarde," Euterpe added, discreetly giving her sister her most approving grin as the water flowed over Hildegarde's pearlescent skin. "We know better than to make any guarantees, but…just have a little hope. You might be surprised, and in any case, tonight is your last night here in this place."

"I know. Thank you both so much, and please, just "Hildegarde" will suffice."

"You are most welcome, _Lady Hildegarde_."

"I thought it would never come, but it finally has," Apollo remarked to Hermes, ruffling his perfect golden hair into a rakish quiff. "After tonight, I will take her to Delos, and then that wretched old school can burn for all I care."

Hermes gave a sad chuckle. "It was already burning long before your new love came, Brother, and the saddest fact is that they do not even know. Hogwarts _was_ a wonderful school once upon a time, but it is now a laughing stock to anyone who has both common sense and the courage to confront reality. However, I do feel sorry for people like Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Cedric Diggory. They would still have to contend with this mess after Hildegarde's departure."

"Oh, I would not be too worried about that," Aphrodite said, her eyes as bright as her smile as she worked on Apollo's hair. "I have consulted the Fates, and they have assured me that those who have remained loyal and true to Hildegarde during this crisis would be rewarded. You yourself have divined their futures, have you not, Apollo?"

Apollo would have nodded, but he could not, as Aphrodite has his head in a firm grip, her fingers picking out the brightest highlights and arranging them into the most eye-catching positions, and he most definitely did not want to destroy what she was taking such pains to create. "I have," he replied with a warm smile. "They will be fine. It will not be easy for them at first, but they will learn to move on, and even venture to greener pastures that enable them to thrive and prosper in ways they never could in that forsaken world. They will find love and happiness."

"Would you let Hildegarde visit them if she wants to?" This was Artemis, who had wandered on to the cloud. She knew that her brother had no issues with Neville and Luna, and in fact valued them for their support of Hildegarde during this most difficult time, but Cedric, whose feelings for Hildegarde were obviously beyond friendship…that might be another story altogether.

It was not in the nature of Gods to look upon competition kindly.

Artemis loved her younger twin brother dearly, but she was also too aware of the darkness within the sun – a darkness that was verified by the numerous cruel and wanton things he had done during his youth, and there were indeed several times where he was almost expelled from the company of the Gods by their father himself, whom he had enraged with his wild folly. Though he had matured considerably over the millenniums where humanity grew to forget the Gods in favour of technology, and he was now much kinder and far more understanding than he had been in the old days, Artemis knew better than to believe that Apollo's dark side had been completely vanquished. As their grand-aunt, Themis, once said: _"One never loses his or her demons. We only learn to live above them."_

She had observed Apollo and Hildegarde ever since they got together, and she would admit that she was relieved, impressed, and desperately worried all at once. She had seen Apollo's lovers come and go, and had learned to read them like an easy storybook – some accepted her brother's courtship for pleasures of the flesh, others for the need for a powerful heir, and there were those who sought to utilise his favour to satisfy their own ambitions. Hildegarde was none of these, for she was infinitely better, and it was easier than anything to see why Apollo was so smitten with her. Not only was she a truly beautiful, truly affectionate, and truly modest girl who was sincerely honest with Apollo right from the start of their relationship, but she was also one of those who could spiritually connect with a God as an equal, without being either terrified of them or greedy for what they could offer.

Artemis had rejoiced with all her heart when she saw how her brother's courtship with Hildegarde actually nurtured something better in him, a positive tender quality that she had never seen before. But she was also deeply troubled by Hildegarde's and Cedric's friendship – though she knew that her brother had long moved on from that devastating betrayal, and it was not fair for her to draw such comparisons, this friendship still reminded her of –

"Artemis, Hildegarde is not Coronis, and Cedric is not Ischys," Apollo's reminder jolted his sister back to reality, but there was neither anger nor sorrow in his eyes and voice. "I appreciate your concern, Sister, and I cannot say that I do not mind Cedric's affections for Hildegarde in the least. But if there are any lessons that Hildegarde had taught me, it would be the importance of mutual trust, mutual understanding, and mutual respect, for it takes the sincere efforts of both parties to make any relationship work. Despite having been betrayed on almost all sides, Hildegarde still managed to find it within her heart to trust me – a complete stranger with no ties whatsoever to her parents, or their friends, or even the British wizarding world – and give us a chance. Would it not be the greatest insult to her if I fail to return that same level of trust, Sister?"

"I know well enough to be certain that you would have no reservations if she were to contact Neville and Luna once she has fully ingratiated herself into her new life, Brother. It is Cedric Diggory whom I am concerned about. Though he obviously could not compete with the likes of you, even I cannot deny that he is a handsome and charming young gentleman, and –"

"Oh, relax, Artemis," Hermes interrupted, taking a large bite of ambrosia as he winked at Apollo. "Apart from the Fates, our dear Apollo here has also consulted Aphrodite about the matter in advance."

Artemis turned to look at Aphrodite, who nodded. Under those expert fingers of hers, Apollo's hair was becoming a work of art that was the despair of any sculptor or painter. "I have looked into this. Though he does not realise it yet, Cedric's feelings for Hildegarde are more platonic than romantic or sexual. It is more of what a kind, devoted older brother would feel for a beautiful, innocent younger sister who suddenly found herself in the most vulnerable position. He would eventually understand this in time, and would move on with his life, though he would always wish Hildegarde well."

"And you are certain about this, Aphrodite?" Artemis persisted, keeping her fingers crossed. She was unwilling to leave anything to chance when it came to her brother's future happiness. Whenever her brother fell in love, he always fell _hard_ and _deep_ , which was why he was always destroyed whenever his romances ended in abysmal failure, leaving her to be the one to pick up the pieces. It always broke her heart in turn, and therefore she was now determined to, if need be, nip Apollo's and Hildegarde's romance in the bud if it was not meant to be due to Cedric. "Absolutely certain?"

"You have my word by the Styx, Artemis." Aphrodite assured her. She and Artemis had never been the best of friends, but as the Goddess of Love, she did appreciate the Goddess of the Moon's heartfelt sisterly love for her brother. "Hildegarde and Cedric are most certainly not going to be another pair of Coronis and Ischys. I have even warned Eros as well. Believe me, neither my son nor I will be playing any tricks this time."

"Brother, do you think we should get your Muses to compose a song about your rescue of Hildegarde from the Pit of Tartarus that is Hogwarts?" Hermes inquired, anxious to tune the tone of the conversation to a lighter note. "I mean, I believe it is something to be celebrated for the ages: despite the fact that Hogwarts had degenerated from a crystalline pond into a ditch of slime and mud, you, Brother dear, still found for yourself a lotus that miraculously managed to rear out of this filth – a blossom of unsullied, dazzling beauty, I might add, one that has put her very future in your hands, willing to trust you to let her thrive and grow despite all the ruthless manipulations others had forced her to endure."

"You would flatter me into my old vanity, Little Brother, but I do not think your idea to be a good one. I want to first give Hildegarde a fresh new life, free of all the gloomy shadows and heavy chains of the past, and I will not succeed if there are any reminders of old pains. No, I believe your idea is absolutely out of the question."

"I must say, you really have changed, Brother."

"I do not want Hildegarde to live in her past anymore, not when her past is filled with so much pain."

At this moment, Aphrodite clapped her hands. "Done!" she said, stepping back to eye the results.

"Artemis, Hermes, what do you think?" Apollo asked, conjuring up a floor mirror to check his reflection.

Artemis smiled and nodded in approval.

Hermes clapped him on the shoulder. "You are the most handsome God on Olympus. Trust me, Brother. Nothing will go wrong this time."

* * *

For the first time in four years, anyone who saw Hildegarde was stunned into a disbelieving yet flattering silence, even as she stood outside the entrance hall, wholly indifferent to all the stares and whispers, clearly waiting for a date that had been one of the hottest topics of discussion ever since the Yule Ball was announced. Euterpe's and Terpischore's work proved to be every bit as worthy as the combined efforts of Aphrodite and her Graces, for it was neither exaggeration, nor lie, nor any flattery whatsoever to say that Hildegarde Rosaleen Potter now looked like an indescribable vision, fairer than any dream of beauty.

Instead of the severe high-necked, long-sleeved dress that Mrs. Weasley had purchased her, Hildegarde wore an off-the-shoulder, Grecian-style gown with a delicate chain that appeared to be made of purest gold over the bare shoulder. The ethereal, otherworldly fabric wound around her hourglass figure in soft layers, then pooled on the floor like liquid. But it was the colour and the embroidery that were the most incredible. It was a dark red that brought to mind a lover's sweet kiss and passionate midsummer nights. It accentuated the emerald tones of Hildegarde's eyes, and made her dewy fresh creamy skin shine like the sun itself. The embroidery was _exquisite_ to the degree of being _life-like_ , done in white and black threads – figures of swans and wolves that, strange to say, did not look out of place despite their contradictory predator-prey statuses, but instead, gave Hildegarde the distinct impression of her simultaneously possessing a swan's tender heart and a wolf's fierce strength.

Her magnificent black hair was pinned up with gold-and-ruby pins, complete with a golden ribbon wound around it, and tied into a perfect bow at the nape of her swanlike neck – a classical style that Hildegarde herself had picked to appear more of a mature woman than the young, inexperienced green girl Mrs. Weasley was so determined to view her as. There were no fewer than three blazing teardrop rubies dancing in her ears, and an intricate necklace of ruby, coral, and gold flowers glittered on her chest. She wore no makeup and needed none: her skin was already rose-petal soft and clear of any blemish, a natural sweet cherry-blossom pink flush was already in her cheeks, and her perfect Cupid's bow mouth was already a ripe autumn berry that begged to be savoured. Coupled with her new and surprising air of calm confidence, Hildegarde looked every inch a supermodel, or a Goddess of Beauty descended to Earth for a visit.

 _Better._

"You look beautiful." A voice that was at once familiar and foreign complimented from behind her.

Hildegarde turned. Brown hair that she remembered being always bushy was now sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot. Neat white teeth peeked behind full, glossy lips that smiled a hesitant, hopeful smile. A surprisingly willowy, graceful figure was set off to advantage by robes made of an airy, periwinkle-blue material. "Thank you, Hermione. You look lovely as well."

Despite sensing that Hildegarde's tone was more polite than friendly, Hermione was determined to keep the conversation going, "As Professor McGonagall said, _tonight_ is the night where we are supposed to _let our hair down_."

Hildegarde nodded.

"Personally, even I am hoping that tonight is going to be something special for me. Does that shock you?"

Hildegarde shook her head. "Your preferences may differ from others of your sex, Hermione, but that does not mean that you are not a woman. Your current appearance says it all."

"I did have my doubts about the Sleekeazy Hair's Potion, but…it ended up working wonders. My mother wore this same hairstyle and same shade of blue at her wedding."

"It becomes you. It becomes you very well. I daresay that Parvati and Lavender would be surprised once they have the chance to properly recognise you, and the Deputy Headmistress would be most pleased to see her favourite student looking like a vision."

"I believe Professor McGonagall would be more pleased to see you looking so exquisite, Hildegarde. I am serious. She would be pleased and proud to see you as you do now, looking like you have stepped into a role that suits you to perfection."

"The Deputy Headmistress is no longer my Head of House, Hermione, and for old times' sake, I will tell you this: in a short time, if all goes well, I will no longer be in the same school as she is. Her opinions had ceased to matter to me a long time ago."

Hermione's heart sank. Soon after Hildegarde's resignation from Gryffindor, McGonagall had approached her for help, her demeanour that of a person who was truly remorseful for the mess she should have cleaned up from the start, but Hermione was unable to provide her with any. How could she, when one more toe out of line on her part meant that she would be in the same deep hot water that Ron was currently in? Merlin, the fact that Hildegarde still felt kindly enough to speak to and engage in simple conversations with her whenever they met (which, to her increasing dismay, were becoming increasingly few and far in between) was a blessing from magic itself, and she was utterly unwilling to jeopardise that already diminishing friendship. The self-reflection that she underwent after being forced – along with the rest of Gryffindor House – to realise that they needed Hildegarde more than she needed them had also compelled her to see, more clearly than ever, certain unsavoury aspects about her personality that she was now trying her best to rectify. That did not mean, however, that she was not pained on her favourite teacher's behalf by how Hildegarde had severed ties with their House, and later with nearly the entire school.

 _But what about Hildegarde? What about all those times where McGonagall and Hogwarts as a whole let her down? How many times have I seen her either being painfully unhappy, or forced into grave dangers because no one else cared enough to lend her helping hand or even a kind word, despite the fact that they were bound by duty and obligation to do so? And what about the fact that, ever since she turned her back on us Gryffindors, our star has started to fall, as if the very skies are angry with us for having done to same to her so many times?_

"Professor McGonagall has really made you angry this time, has she not, Hildegarde?"

"I am not angry with her, Hermione. If I were angry with her, it would mean that I still have some positive feelings towards her, just like how hatred is actually a product of love, instead of being its opposite. As I have told Cedric previously, the opposite of love is indifference. She has made me angry too many times, Hermione, and so I have now grown indifferent to her. I am sorry to be saying such things about your favourite teacher, but excluding her from my heart forever is one of the greatest reliefs I have ever felt. I am glad that I am no longer in her House, and I will be even gladder when I leave this school for good, for that means I will, most hopefully, no longer see her again."

"Hildegarde, –"

"My, my, I must remember to reward Euterpe and Terpsichore beyond their dreams later on," a voice of indescribable beauty spoke as two long, powerfully-built arms suddenly encircled Hildegarde's slim waist from behind. "You are a vision of perfection, Hildegarde."

Hermione stared. The stranger that had seemingly materialised out of nowhere was _gorgeous_. No other word for him. He had the kind of strong, chiselled features that were the stuff of wet dreams. Perfectly-cut, clean-shaven square jaw. High, sculpted cheekbones. A straight, fine nose. Lips so full and luscious that they begged to be kissed. Wide-set, long-lashed eyes as blue as the Mediterranean. His thick, rich golden-blond hair, the like of which was the despair of even shampoo commercials, was perfectly coiffed in a classical rakish style that accentuated the masculine beauty of his features. His skin was a flawless yet natural golden tan that Hermione knew no bronzer or magic could replicate.

And his body. She swallowed. _Talk about a perfect package…_ the stranger was as tall as he was beautiful, and dressed in a sleeveless, knee-length tunic made of a material that was lighter and more luminescent than silk, but she could still somehow tell that it was warmer than wool. Its colour was just as incredible as Hildegarde's gown was: an unearthly blue that brought out the sapphire in his eyes and the bronze of his skin. Her own eyes almost popped out of her head as she went on to register the gold thread that the tunic was trimmed with, as well as the gold brooches and the gold belt that kept the tunic in place. She was neither goblin, nor smith, nor jeweller, but – in that same strange, magical way through which she deduced the impossibly ethereal quality of the material, she could tell that not only was the gold real, but it was also of the _very purest kind_ , and the craftsmanship was definitely beyond that of any mundane hands.

That was before adding in the appraisal of his physique, which was something that any underwear model would sell his soul for. In fact, Hermione had to forcibly move her gaze so it would not get glued on the powerful muscles of his broad shoulders, as well as those of his sculpted arms. Hating herself for being week, she glanced lower, taking in the line of his well-defined thighs, his scrumptious calves, and she had to restrain herself from gasping at his perfect feet, which were clad in gold sandals.

He was a fully-matured _man_ in his prime, and an altogether divine specimen.

"Thank you. You look wonderful as well." Hildegarde's smile was so warm and genuine that the increasing familiar pain in Hermione's heart quashed her shock at the beautiful stranger. Once upon a time, Hildegarde's smile had been like that whenever she regarded her and Ron, but now everything had changed. "Part of me was actually wondering if you would really show up in only a loincloth or, goodness forbid, _naked_."

The stranger chuckled, and Hermione felt like complaining about the obscene unfairness of it all. Now that she was paying proper attention, even his voice was a literal marvel – rich and warm, full of music, life, and powerful sensuality. He was like an animated Renaissance sculpture, or some mythological God in the flesh. "My love, I was teasing. How could I possibly display myself like that for another, when I now abhor the very idea, especially since I have pledged myself to you?"

Hermione's jaw nearly dropped to the ground when she heard this. "Pledge?!"

"Miss Hermione Granger, I presume?" The stranger raised the rhetorical question before Hildegarde could say anything. His sweet warm smile turned into a cool perfunctory one as he regarded the girl who had once been one of his lover's best friends. His eyes were now hard as well, making Hermione recoil a little at their chilly intensity. "I am Phoebus Delos, Hildegarde's date for the Yule Ball, as well as her most ardent suitor."

"What?"

* * *

"Any second thoughts?" Apollo quietly asked, his voice tinged with a hint of worry in the midst of the escalating stares and whispers that he and Hildegarde received. He hated to admit it, but it was an undeniable fact that, despite its rapid degeneration, Hogwarts still retained some of its glamourous beauty, and _this_ was the place where his beloved learned the truth about her heritage. Of course, it was absolutely nothing compared to the paradise that he would be taking her to later on, but millenniums of observation had taught him that people tend to hold on to the past and to what they know with tight hands, even if that knowledge consisted of blood and pain.

"No." Hildegarde shook her head firmly. "None at all. I will miss people like Neville, Luna, Cedric, and perhaps Professor Flitwick, but I am done with Hogwarts. It has chilled me as badly as Privet Drive has, and I have all but lost my spirit. I have to get away from here for good, before something worse happens. I have to go someplace where I am neither a slave nor a saviour. Someplace where there are no more secrets, no more lies, and I can feel the sunshine warming my bones, my very blood. Besides, in time, I would still be able to visit those who have merited it, would I not?"

"Of course." Apollo gave Hildegarde's forehead a loving kiss of relief and assurance. He would have preferred a full kiss, but knowing how much his beloved abhorred being in the spotlight, he settled for something less intimate – even that gesture was enough to cause more than a few people to drop their jaws in disbelief. If Hermione had not been led away by Viktor before she could enquire further about Hildegarde's handsome mysterious date, she might have squealed or shrieked. "Delos' sun and I will most definitely warm you, beloved, and I will also do everything I can to bring fire and power back to you. Once you yourself deem that you are ready, you can visit whoever you like whenever you want to. You have my word by the Styx on this."

"Thank you, love."

"So, Potter, you had to pay some Muggle to be your date?"

Draco Malfoy had not been having a good time at all.

Yes, he had been as taken back as anyone else when Hildegarde's name came out of the goblet, but he had quickly used it to his advantage. Or at least, he tried to, until Cedric Diggory gave him two black eyes, and made it abundantly clear that he was not going to be dancing along to his usual tunes of scorning all things Potter. Then, when Hildegarde resigned from Gryffindor, and severed ties with all but Professor Flitwick, almost everyone seemed to turn against him. Now that it was evident she no longer cared for them, and would not lift a single finger to help them even if they were in grave danger, everyone was forced to realise that they actually needed her more than she need them. If word got out of how they had abused her, their futures would be over before they even started. Hence, apart from dropping all the glares and insults, the Hogwarts student population had re-directed their ire at those obnoxious ones who previously targeted Hildegarde over the tournament fiasco.

Naturally, he, Draco Malfoy, became one of the two who were subjected to the greatest contempt (even from his own House), coming in second only to Ron Weasley.

He never thought the day would come where he would find himself in the same state of disgrace as a Weasley, but he had – if he was not being shunned, he was the recipient of spiteful glares, or humiliating laughs, or scathing taunts that, many a time, _almost_ reduced him to tears. The very worst torment he was forced to endure had been, of course, the tempest in Albus Dumbledore's office when he was summoned for a private meeting. It was a storm the like of which he had never ever imagined, not even in his very worst nightmares, and one that made his father's stories of the Dark Lord's wrath seem like a mere child throwing tantrums. It was also made crystal-clear that he could no longer depend on his most respectable Professor Snape, for the tight leash that the terrifying old man was keeping him on was as plain as day. Even Lucius Malfoy was in no position to defend his son either: now that he was no longer a school governor, whatever actual influence he could exert at Hogwarts to indulge his son's whims was non-existent, and word was that Dumbledore had, after giving Draco the tongue-lashing of his life, sent a message to Lucius, one that was apparently enough for the Malfoy Patriarch to further warn his son to keep his head down and guard his tongue.

For a moment, just a moment only, he wondered if this was how Hildegarde had felt every time he singled her out for bullying, and laughed to see how those authority figures not only turned a blind eye or a deaf ear to his behaviour, but also encouraged him in some instances.

The combination of universal scorn, his desire to not relive the old man's wrath, and his father's warnings had, so far, caused him to keep his distance from his favourite target. But now, he had finally snapped at the sight of the stunning pair that Hildegarde and her date made.

How could he help himself? Poisonous toadstools could never change their spots, and Hildegarde and her date looked like a couple of international models, far more glamourous and sophisticated than anyone else in the room. It was more than his battered, bruised Malfoy pride could take.

"For your information, Mr. Malfoy, I am not what you would call a Muggle." Apollo spoke passionately, his voice like ice. He would have liked to turn the arrogant little bully into either a worm and feed him to his swans or a stag and let him be torn apart by his wolves. But he had promised Hildegarde that he would not lay a finger on any at Hogwarts, for what she wanted was not vengeance upon them, but freedom from them. "And you are one to talk about paying your dates, when everyone at this wretched school knows that Pansy Parkinson would sleep with practically anyone if the price is right."

Draco and Pansy flushed, but Apollo was not done, "Then again, you two might be meant for each other after all, for you are both two of the most foolish children here. You two think you know your own minds, when all you do is parrot what your parents taught you, as if you were puppets instead of people. You two place such importance in the so-called "purity of blood", when your own blood is as red as any other person's. You two believe that you are the sovereign rulers of your era, and yet you behave not like true royalty, but like filth that should be flushed down the toilet before its stench suffocates those true blossoms of faith and grace."

"Why you –"

"And Hildegarde and I have better things to do than to entertain your childishness." With that, Apollo led Hildegarde away, leaving the pair of Slytherins stuttering, their colour alternating between red and white.

"Zeus' beard, Hildegarde. Is he always like this?"

"Worse, actually. But I have to admit that this is a billion times better than his usual standards. Perhaps the staff had something to do with it, but sometime after I resigned from Gryffindor, I ceased to hear anything from Draco and his cronies. There were no more singling me out, no more taunting, no more ridiculing. They left me alone. On those occasions where we encountered each other, he ignored me completely and went along the other way. In fact, this is the first time in many months that he has tried to aggravate me."

"I suppose you can teach an old dog _some_ new tricks, after all. Though the results are not as good as I hoped."

"Apollo?"

"I promised you that I would not hurt any of them, Hildegarde, and so I have not. However, it is just beyond me to let things be, especially considering how much you have suffered because of them."

"What did you do?"

"A subtle influence, Hildegarde. Nothing more, and nothing less, I swear. After your resignation from Gryffindor, Minerva McGonagall did make a beeline for Albus Dumbledore's office, and to ensure that he did not dismiss the matter as inconsequential, I gently urged an impulse to conduct his own private investigation as to what the situation was truly like. Let us just say he was far from pleased at realising the full gravity of Severus Snape's atrocities and Draco Malfoy's growing depravity, as well as the negative environment that he had allowed them to spread in his own school."

 _So, his rose-coloured glasses were broken. At last. Now that he finally realised how badly he had permitted his own school to deteriorate, and is taking steps to salvage the situation, I no longer care, and I am leaving after tonight._ Hildegarde reflected, her indifference towards Dumbledore effortlessly overpowering any sense of bitterness or satisfaction that she might have felt about the old fool's amendments. Perhaps there was hope for Hogwarts, but she would neither be around to enjoy the improvements, or even see it for herself. _It is not as if I had never given them any chances. I had given them so many, but they squandered them all._

Apollo's eyes were wide with worry and concern at Hildegarde's silence to his confession. "You are not upset with me for this, are you, Hildegarde?"

Hildegarde shook her head firmly, an assuring smile on her lips. "I may be a great many things, but I am a person of my word. When I say that I am done with someone, I am done. People like Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Severus Snape have made their own beds, and whether they enjoy lying in it is not a matter of concern to me. Not anymore."

Apollo gently stroked her hair, his heart aching as he sensed the faint remnants of profound sadness in his beloved's indifference towards those who should have protected her. "Beloved, if you wish it, we can lea –"

"No, Apollo. I do not want to be the type of person who leaves without being honest for once about how I think and feel of those who surround me. I do not want to leave without saying goodbye to those who have merited it, and wishing them good luck in their future endeavours."

* * *

Needless to say, as the Yule Ball officially commenced, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were not the only ones who received figurative slaps in the face from Apollo and Hildegarde, both of whom looked so unearthly that it almost hurt to gaze at them. Even Fleur Delacour, stunningly beautiful in embroidered robes of silver-grey satin, looked like a pale moon to Hildegarde's radiant sun. The look on Ron's face when he saw his former friend and her date was so priceless that, if the Weasley twins were not still so upset over their losing Hildegarde's favour, they would have taken countless pictures. Cedric did not say anything, but gave Hildegarde a smile that fully conveyed his heartfelt approving admiration and, despite the unmistakable glimmer of jealousy and suspicion that flashed across his features as he observed Apollo, still gave the God of the Sun a courteous nod that was graciously returned.

Minerva McGonagall had tried to smile hopefully at Hildegarde, but her responding indifference discouraged her and her smile drooped pitifully. In fact, if her presence had not been mandatory for the entire duration of the ball, she would have fled to her room to drown her mortification in drink. Severus Snape reminded one of a mute person being forced to chew on the sourest limes – he did not try to approach Hildegarde, his posture was like that of a soldier on guard, and there was a smile on his face, but it was such an appalling combination of politeness and bitterness that it was a frightful sight to behold. Word was that Dumbledore had wanted to bar him from the ball for fear that he would attempt to do something stupid, but given how everyone's eyes were already on the Hogwarts staff due to their mishandling Hildegarde's situation, he had finally relented, but still took great pains to remind the Potions Master of the consequences should he put one toe out of line.

The Headmaster's behaviour, however, still gave Hildegarde a twinge of irrepressible surprise: she had expected the old man to come charging to her the instant he saw her with Apollo, demanding answers while turning the full force of his twinkling eyes and his grandfatherly demeanour on her. But he did not. Instead, he had offered her a hesitant yet sincere smile not unlike that of McGonagall's, and even ventured to give Apollo the polite nod that a host would while welcoming visitors to his abode. It was then that Hildegarde realised she had to admire Dumbledore's steely nerves – the smile on his face and the gentle politeness he radiated did not falter in the least when Apollo ignored him completely, as though he was something wholly unworthy of any consideration. She also noted that, despite their having witnessed Apollo's lack of acknowledgement towards their beloved master, neither McGonagall nor Snape tried to step forward in an attempt to either defend or rebuke.

 _This has to be a first in living history,_ she reflected to herself. _Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape actually not protesting against this kind of slight towards their most beloved master._

Putting aside the turmoil she felt over the unexpected reactions of the adults over her date, Hildegarde found that she did enjoy herself, if only a little. Though she had practiced dancing with Terpsichore, she had not felt so confident when the Muse of Dance was not with her. Fortunately, Apollo's presence turned out to be all the assurance she needed – she followed his lead, and soon the rhythm of the dance was bolstered in her mind. She and Apollo moved in sync, flowing like silk. Their feet hardly touched the floor, and they looked like they were floating. It was such an entrancing vision that they threw the other Champions and their dates into the background, and people stopped and stared, giving them a wide berth on the dance floor.

Hildegarde, who had been trained to be simultaneously fixated on her task yet aware of her surroundings, received another unexpected surprise, for she did not catch any disparaging whispers this time regarding her behaviour, not even the slightest remark about how it was supposed to be inappropriate for her, a schoolgirl, to have an older man as her date for a ball such as this. Clearly, everyone was walking on eggshells about her, too wary of saying or doing anything that might lower her already negative opinion of them further. _Well, not that I care anymore. They have made their choices, and I have made mine. It is not like I had never given them any chances, after all._

Apollo, on his part, initially enjoyed himself thoroughly as the dance commenced – his beloved Hildegarde looked so beautiful, her movements so in tune with his, and her attention was wholly on him. However, when he noted how her emerald-shaming eyes were soft with wistful grief, how her sweet affectionate smile had a note of utter resignation, and how she unconsciously gave off the impression of a swan's last song even as she held her head high and her feet twinkled through the steps, his happy mood dampened. Anger, such a constant companion to him in days of old, flared up like a fireplace that had been fed fresh wood, but it was still held under the tight restraints of age and maturity.

 _Tonight. After tonight, I will take my love away from this accursed place, which can then burn for all I care._

* * *

 **So...what do you all think? Whether or not I continue would depend entirely on the number and kind of reviews I receive, so please do help me make a choice here. :D  
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